


Aimer

by lukegray (spacebarista)



Category: The Following
Genre: Father's Day, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Twincest, kinda twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-16
Updated: 2014-06-16
Packaged: 2018-02-04 22:33:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1795615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacebarista/pseuds/lukegray
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been a stressful Sunday for Luke Gray. Of course Mark won't let him sleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aimer

**Author's Note:**

> I've been planning this since Mother's Day. I've had Sam's comments on Luke taking responsibility for the other Gray kids and acting like the "man of the house" floating about in my head and thought about if at least Mark saw these things as fatherly and tried to honor the best father figure he's ever had.

Luke has been running around all day. Lily had needed him to go into town and pick up more food as well as a few packages she had waiting at the post office. Radmila had asked if she could spend the day with friends in town, so he dropped her off and said he’d take her duties for the day. Giselle needed to meet Lily in New York City, so he had to take her to the train station. Sami and Jamel were behind on their English work, leaving him to do weapons inventory. With everything he’s been doing all day, he’s ready to collapse in bed and never get out again. It’s too much work for a Sunday. Don’t people usually _rest_ on the seventh day?

Once Luke and his siblings have the roast and potatoes and other various foods he cooked for them for dinner, he leaves Sami and Jamel to clear the dishes and the table and heads to his room. He doesn’t bother to undress. He drops into his bed, just managing to kick off his shoes before drifting off. 

Luke reawakens to a soft knocking on his door. He groans, glancing at his watch. It’s only been an hour. He rolls onto his back and covers his eyes with his arm. He can’t deal with any more needs. “I’m trying to sleep. Come back tomorrow.” 

“Luke? It’s me.” Mark. Luke sighs. He loves his twin, he does. But he’s not sure he wants to answer any more requests. “Can I come in? I’ll only be a minute, I promise.” Dammit. He can never say no to his little brother. Especially when he uses that tone. 

“Yeah. Come in.” 

Mark steps into the room slowly, as if he’s unsure about Luke’s permission. So Luke sits up with another groan, rubbing at his eye. He’s hiding a hand behind his back, which is extremely suspicious, and looks almost shy. “Sorry, I just wanted to catch you before you fell asleep.” He grins sheepishly. “I didn’t know you already were.” 

Luke shrugs and manages to smile up at his brother. “It’s okay. Can’t say no to you.” He waits for Mark to say something. But he simply rocks back and forth on his heels, trying to decide what to say, most likely. Luke sighs, but not impatiently. “C’mon, Mark. What is–” 

“Happy father’s day,” he blurts out, pulling a box from behind his back and holding it out to him. 

Luke looks between the box and Mark’s face, mouth open slightly. Was it father’s day? He hadn’t really been paying attention. It’s not like they’ve ever really had a father to celebrate. He takes the box, studying it and weighing it in his hand before looking back up at his twin. “What’s this for?” 

Mark huffs. “I told you. Father’s day.” Luke continues to stare at him blankly, and it’s Mark’s turn to sigh. “Look… we’ve _never_ had a father. Even with Lily’s… attempts at bringing one in…” He trails off. Luke gets it. He’s lived it as well. Hell, he’d been disciplined a little too roughly by almost all of them himself. Mark clears his throat. “Luke. You’re the closest thing most of us have had to a father in a _long_ time. For me? The closest thing _ever_. You take care of all of us. You take care of _me_. All ahead of yourself. Even though you act like you don’t care… you do. You run this house. You keep us happy. You keep us _safe_. Most of the time that’s the father’s job. The man of the house. And that’s _you_ here. So…” He takes a deep breath. “Happy father’s day, Luke.” 

Luke stares at him. This time, in _awe_. Mark rarely speaks so much, preferring to keep his thoughts to himself unless they are needed. Even then… how did he not _know_ that his twin felt this way? Maybe he did, but chalked it up to being an elder brother. Not… not a _father_ figure. He opens his mouth, but doesn’t know what to say. Instead, he looks down at the box and carefully undoes the small amount of paper on it. Within the box is one of those bracelets he’s admired for a long time. It’s a leather cuff with a metal plate on it. And engraved on the plate… Luke laughs. “ _Aimer_?” 

Mark simply smiles. “To love. Because you love us.” He pauses, but his smile doesn’t waver. “And I love you.” 

Luke’s jaw hangs open again. He must look ridiculous. But his brother has left him speechless again. How could he _ever_ think of something to say to that? So he says nothing. Luke reaches out and pulls Mark against him, burying his face in his brother’s shirt and nuzzling into the warmth of his stomach. He feels and hears Mark laugh, and feels Mark’s hand rest on the back of his neck.

“Is that a thank you?” 

Luke smiles into the the material of Mark’s shirt. “Shut up.” His retort is muffled, but Mark’s chuckle assures him that the younger twin heard him. He breathes him in, reveling in his scent and his warmth. Mark’s hand smooths over his tousled hair. Luke tilts his head up, smiling back at his mirror image. He couldn’t have asked for a better brother. “You want to help me fall asleep? I think I’d be _much_ more comfortable with company." 

Mark nods, and shrugs off his his hoodie. Luke places the box on his nightstand, slipping the cuff on before flopping back into bed. He doesn’t fall asleep for a long time, leaving Mark to doze off beside him. He can’t stop looking at the word etched into the metal. It would impact his reputation sure. But he doesn’t care. The one that matters most to him will _always_ know who he really is, how he really feels. And that’s all that matters to him. 

He can’t wait for the next father’s day. Maybe he can guilt Giselle into cooking or something for him. On second thought… maybe not. He doesn’t need to spend another Sunday trying to keep the house from burning down or Mark from snitching to Lily. He’d prefer more Sunday nights like this one.


End file.
